Hoare was taken to the dungeons by Snape, which was essentially Snape's office.

It wasn't his first time here; he spent most of his evenings in this place, continuing to develop the Squib potion with Snape.

However, the atmosphere felt a bit different this time.

Snape sat behind his large headmaster's desk, hands crossed under his nose, his big, dark eyes staring unblinkingly at Hoare, as if... lost in thought?

Hoare came to this startling conclusion.

He relaxed internally; knowing Snape's personality, if there was something wrong, he would have started scolding already.

Hoare thought of Professor McGonagall, who had followed Snape in. It seemed the headmaster was worried McGonagall would give him a hard time, so he had dragged him away.

Recalling what had just happened, Hoare frowned inwardly.

The feeling of flying on a broomstick was truly unparalleled, incredibly wonderful, and utterly addictive.

If possible, he really wanted to try the fastest broomstick of the day, the Nimbus 2000.

Unfortunately, a Nimbus 2000 cost a whopping 2000 Galleons. Hoare could earn that, but he was reluctant to spend the money on it.

Didn't you see? The wand in his robe pocket was bought from a second-hand wand shop.

If he hadn't come to Hogwarts incognito, Hoare would have wanted to use his brother Bill's old wand directly.

His thoughts drifted far away, and when he pulled them back, he saw Snape had already ignored him and started grading papers.

Hoare felt that standing there was quite tiring.

He skillfully dragged a chair over for himself.

Snape didn't even lift his head. The pile of parchment beside him was so high that a slightly shorter person might be completely blocked.

"Oh, I thought you liked standing as punishment. After all, with so much on your mind, getting stuck is normal."

Hoare rolled his eyes, "Headmaster, what do you want with me? If there's nothing, I'll head back."

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Snape put down his quill, folded his hands, and placed them on the desk.

"Henry William," Snape called Hoare by his full name.

To be honest, this made Hoare tense up. He knew that whenever Snape called him by his full name, it meant there was something for him to do.

"I'm here," Hoare raised his hand.

"Would you be willing to join the Slytherin Quidditch team?" Snape said, and then, remembering Hoare's temperament, added, "It's about Slytherin's honor."

Clearly, Snape overestimated Hoare's need for honor.

Hoare feigned contemplation on the surface, but inside he couldn't help but feel delighted. He had just been thinking about how to get a new broomstick. Look, here someone was offering it to him.

However, becoming a Quidditch player wasn't an easy task.

Besides regular coursework, he would have to make time for special training.

Hoare currently needed to spend every evening on potion development, which was crucial for future large sums of Galleons. Hoare took it very seriously.

The potion was at a critical stage, just one stabilizing ingredient away from success.

Unfortunately, recent experiments hadn't been very promising.

If the experiments failed, there would be no income.

Adding training on top of that would mean losing money.

No, no, that was too unprofitable.

Thinking of this, Hoare couldn't help but frown, looking troubled as he faced Snape, "Professor, you know my schedule. I really don't have time for training."

Snape had also considered this, but Hoare's talent in Quidditch was too tempting to ignore.

Although Snape wasn't particularly fond of Quidditch, he cared deeply about Slytherin's victories and losses, being the headmaster.

"You have a few classes exempt from homework. You can squeeze some time out," Snape thought about Hoare's schedule.

Hoare's face stiffened. Since when did Professor Snape become so demanding?

Look at that, is that something a person would say?

Seeing Hoare's pained expression, Snape wondered if he was being too demanding of him, considering he was just an eleven-year-old child.

Then he suddenly remembered a certain hobby of Hoare's.

Snape asked, "What would it take for you to agree to join the Quidditch team?"

The pained expression on Hoare's face vanished, replaced by a wide grin. He extended his right hand, palm up, "It'll cost more."

Snape... knew it would come to this!

With a dark expression, he said, "You should know this is about the honor of the house."

Hoare replied, "I know, I guarantee a win, but it'll cost more."

"The Quidditch team isn't easy to get into; others have to go through tryouts. You're considered special."

Hoare repeated, "I guarantee a win, but it'll cost more."

"Even the captain doesn't get special benefits."

Hoare insisted, "I guarantee a win."

Snape squinted slightly, "They all bring their own brooms. If you join, I can give you a new broom."

"Nimbus 2000," Hoare sensed Snape's concession and added, "100 Galleons a week, and an extra 1000 Galleons for winning a match."

Hoare dared to ask for such a high price not out of arrogance.

He knew that the Slytherin players this year, who had just been appointed, weren't very skilled, except for fighting.

Snape had probably seen the training and realized that without changes, this year's matches were in jeopardy. Otherwise, as headmaster, he wouldn't usually interfere with Slytherin's internal selections or activities.

"Are you a Niffler? All you think about is money!" Snape stood up abruptly.

The tall shadow loomed over Hoare's eleven-year-old frame, but he wasn't daunted at all. Instead, he calmly said, "How did the headmaster know that's my dream?"

Snape's sallow face turned as dark as his robes.

He gritted his teeth and squeezed out a word, "Deal."

Snape's efficiency was indeed high. By breakfast the next day, everyone saw an owl carrying a long, wrapped object fly to the Slytherin table.

The owl dropped the item in front of Hoare and then flew out of the ceiling, just like its owner.

Draco curiously leaned over, "What's that?"

The item was tightly wrapped in brown paper, but its shape was faintly discernible.

Hoare thought Draco probably guessed what it was but didn't dare to admit it.

Initially intending to take it back to the dormitory to unwrap, Hoare couldn't resist his mischievous impulse. After all, it would be seen sooner or later, so unwrapping it now wouldn't matter.

Hoare tore open the layers of brown paper, revealing the item inside.

"Nimbus 2000!" Draco couldn't control his volume, and his shout echoed throughout the Great Hall.

"Nimbus 2000!"

"Nimbus, Nimbus, Nimbus..."

Well, now the whole school knew. Hoare facepalmed.

Hi everyone, if you like this novel and want to read more in advance, please support me on PawRead.

Discord:https://discord.com/invite/ua2A852bws